


Can't sleep

by afailureofheart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afailureofheart/pseuds/afailureofheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is lying awake and it's 4 in the morning. He may or may not actually be watching American Dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of Louis' tweets where a fan asked him why he was awake because it was four in the morning in the UK and he replied can't sleep. So I got all emotional and I wrote this and I read through it a few times so I'm not sure if there are any glaring errors but I don't think so. I hope you like it! It's not super long but I think its got a nice angsty punch to it and feedback is appreciated!

There's another episode of American Dad playing on the TV. It's probably the 5th or 6th in a row. It seems like they just kept coming one after another. Louis had stopped watching a little while after the second squabble between the guy in the suit and the one that kind of looks like an alien.

Louis doesn't usually watch these shit comedy cartoons but the crude, lazy humor kind of fits his mood right now. In his opinion its the lowest kind of humor, so crass and overt, but he’s not really in a position to be picky. Its four in the morning and the flat is quiet. The kind of quiet that rings so loud its worse than noise.

Its just him in bed, the massive king feeling empty with its mountains of down pillows and fluffy white comforter. Harry hates keeping the winter quilt on during the summer, says he gets too hot at night, but Louis dragged it out of the back of the closet because he just wanted to hole up and be comfy. It kind of amazes him how much it still smells like them even after being stuffed away in the closet for months.

Somehow everything still seems like them. Like they’d never left. The black socks are still in the corner by the tall lamp where they landed when Louis missed the suitcase. The empty water bottle is still on the nightstand, water droplets clinging to the side of the plastic. Louis had chuckled when he’d first gotten home and saw spotless the kitchen. Harry had pitched a fit when Louis said there wasn’t time to clean it up after breakfast the day they left. They’d woken up late because Louis had forgotten to set the alarm on their phone but Harry had insisted that they had a full fry up because it was going to be their last one for awhile. Louis had patiently watched Harry cook and obediently eaten his bacon, but he’d been really worried they were going to miss their flight and tried to badger Harry into maybe not cleaning every crevice of the kitchen for once. But Harry had been relentless; mumbling about ants and mice as he scrubbed down every inch of the kitchen. They’d nearly missed their flight and Louis had been annoyed at the time, but when he’d walked in after being on the road for so long and Harry hadn’t been by his side, there was nothing more important in the world than those gleaming granite countertops.

But now Louis’s in bed, wrapped up in the comforter like he’s huddling for warmth in the arctic, instead of trying not to feel alone in his posh London penthouse. The tv is the only noise in the room. Flickering against the light blue walls. The volume is still on because Louis can't find the remote, but its low enough he can barely make out what they're saying. Not that he's really trying anymore.

He’d passed punchy tired a little while ago when he stopped snapchatting farting videos to Niall and started wondering why he wasn’t already label deep in a bottle of tequila drowning out his thoughts. Louis didn’t much feel like drinking though, he was really more of a happy drunk than a sad contemplative one. And he wasn’t really in the mood for happy right now.

Louis feels lonely. Its not a familiar feeling exactly, but at the same time its something that never feels that far off. When you're constantly surrounded by people all the time, telling you what to do, how to stand, how to talk, how to feel. A lot of times it can feel like you're the only person who even cares who you really are anymore. Louis knows that's not true though. He knows Harry cares. He knows Zayn, Liam and Niall care. They're the only people who really understand what its like anyway.

But Harry really cares. Harry cares about the boy who misses his family and his life more than he'd like to admit. Harry cares about the who boy snores when he has a cold, and can't sleep without a fan on. Harry cares about the boy who cries when the truth gets too hard to bear. No one else cares about that boy. Louis' not sure anyone else could love that boy, sometimes if he’s honest he’s not sure how Harry does. There are so many holes, and fake fronts. But Somehow Harry seems to tear down walls and fill up the cracks.

Louis picks up his phone scrolling through his messages. With anyone else he might feel a little dumb sending six texts in a row, each receiving no answer, but Louis knows why Harry isn't answering. Harry's asleep. It hurts a little bit knowing that even on their time off they can't be together, but Louis also knows its important for Harry to be in LA right now. Business as usual really. Their time is not their own, Louis knows that now.

Its been a long time since Louis has had any delusions about what his life is. Yeah is sparkly and bright, picking up pace every day, but its more like when you’re on a bike going down a really big hill, and you’re so excited picking up speed, the wind blowing through your hair, that feeling that’s a little bit like flying and a little bit like falling. But by the time that you realize you didn’t break early enough and you’re going too fast, the panic seeping into your stomach, making you sick and indecisive, not sure what to do. By the time you realize that you can’t stop you’re already veering out of control and there’s nothing left to do but brace yourself and wait for the fall. It seems like everyday Louis feels more and more like he was bracing himself for the inevitable crash and less like he was flying down the hill world at his fingertips. Though a lot of the time it feels like both.

Closing his messages, he clicks on Twitter and scrolls through his timeline. Its littered with rubbish really. Business types and fans intermingling into an incoherent mess of things Louis doesn't really care about. Louis doesn't care about much anymore anyway. When its exhausting enough to care about your family, your friends, and your relationship there's not much room left for other people. He's not selfish though, just realistic.

He types out a tweet wanting to reach out to people because its 4 in the morning and what else has he got? He still manages to be astounded by the response he gets from a simple 'How is everyone'. Before he even has time to do much more than blink, its been retweeted over 18,000 times and favorited by over 28,000 people.

Sometimes Louis doesn't understand why so many people care. He's been a fan sure, but never on the scale that people seem to care about him and the rest of the boys. Sometimes it’s scary but a lot of the time it’s kind of beautiful. The way so many people believe in them, and support  them, and just spend their lives loving something so wholeheartedly.

He sees a tweet asking what he's doing. He replies, watching American Dad. At this point watching seems like a bit of a stretch but Louis likes the feeling of just saying something so blatantly honest. So much of his interaction with people these days, especially fans, feels too scripted and stiff. He’s not always at ease meeting fans or interacting with them on stage, that’s always been Harry’s thing, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He just tries to be genuine, and sometimes genuine doesn’t always mean nice but he tries his best to be honest. But sometimes he doesn’t have a choice. This, on the other hand feels, like a little peek into his life.  However mundane or uninteresting it is, it’s him, and that's something that Louis doesn't often feel like he gets to do. Just be him.

He sees another tweet questioning why he's awake. Again that feeling of power, alone in the dark with no one looking over his shoulder, Louis feels that power. Can't sleep, he replies. It seems sad when he types it out. Pressing enter and admitting it to so many people across the world. But its honest and right now it kind of feels like that's all Louis has.

He hasn't been sleeping for a while. It’s not the first time he's lain awake feeling empty and unsure. Tiredness creeping into the back of his brain fogging everything over, but never quite becoming the sleep he knows he desperately needs.

There have been too many nights in one serving hotels, each utterly the same, a of throw away, or one use only kind of thing. Piling up in useless memories each blurring into the other.

Too many nights bumping along in a bed much too small for two, pretending he can't feel each pot hole and uneven bump in the pavement. Sometimes even pretending he can't feel the body next to him.

Those are the nights Louis lies awake, feeling more than thinking really. Feeling everything he can't bear to face in the sunlight, and wouldn't survive if he tried to.

This night is different though. There's no one beside him. There's no steady breath against his neck. No heart beat, just a touch slower than his own, pulsing against his back for him to time his uneven breaths to. There's no one. Just him and an empty bed.

Louis sighs pulling the heavy comforter closer. Breathing in the smell that shouldn't have lasted this long. Turning back to his phone he searches through the replies to his last tweet. They’re coming in quickly, but he’s not really reading them. He just keeps repeating, I can’t sleep, over in his head. Like a broken record, all old and scratched, but maybe if you play it backwards there’s a hidden message. Waiting to be heard even though maybe it shouldn’t be. Because sometimes honesty is cold and empty, sometimes it too much, but there's no undoing it now. And its not like anyone would ever know what this meant to him anyway. There's only one person who might, and he's half way across the world.


End file.
